


No Escape

by blakefancier



Series: For Your Entertainment [8]
Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve presses the issue and Howard is still confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something to tide you all over while I head home for Thanksgiving.

It's late, or maybe it's early, it's hard to tell. Howard loses track of time when he's working. And now that he knows that Steve is all right, or will be, he can concentrate on what they brought back from the last Hydra base. The technology is amazing and Howard can't help but feel a little admiration for the scientists.

The weapons have given him several breakthroughs of his own. When Steve and the Commandos go out to storm the next base, they'll be better equipped.

He’s in the middle of sketching an idea: pencil in hand, tracing a curve onto a clean piece of paper, when the door to his room opens.

His train of thought stutters to a stop, and then completely derails as his body’s response takes precedence. “Steve,” he says, surprised. Though he shouldn't be; didn't Peggy tell him the other day that Steve would be out soon? “You’re here. I… Are you all right?”

Steve smiles and sets down his sketchpad and pencils. Then he rolls his right shoulder, giving a slight wince at the movement. “Almost as good as new. Doc says that in another week, I’ll be ready to go out again."

The very idea makes Howard's stomach churn and he swallows back the words on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he chokes out, "Good. That's good."

Steve's smile fades and he flops onto one of the chairs. "You look tired."

So does Steve. Howard shrugs. "I've been busy."

"Too busy to visit me in the hospital," Steve says, his voice flat and emotionless.

Howard looks down at the piece of paper and traces the line he's made until it's thick and black, then rubs his thumb against it, until it smears. "You were in good hands."

"And you’re a busy man, Mr. Stark."

He closes his eyes and swallows hard. He wants to tell Steve not to call him that. Instead he crumples the paper in his fist.

"Maybe I should go."

Howard hears the sound of Steve's chair skidding back as he stands.

"Good night, Mr. Stark."

"W—" The word sticks in his throat. He opens his eyes to Steve, hand on the doorknob, staring at him. "Wait."

"Why should I?" Steve releases the doorknob and crosses his arms over his chest.

Howard swallows hard and his eyes light on Steve's sketchbook. "You don't want me to… to model for you tonight?"

Steve lets his hands drop to his sides. "Is that what you want?"

He shrugs, helplessly. He doesn't know what he wants, except maybe he doesn't want Steve to leave. Or call him Mr. Stark.

Steve sighs and walks over to Howard. "Stand up."

Howard quickly obeys, glancing at Steve's face, trying to gauge his mood. Steve seems pensive, calm. He lays a hand on Howard's chest and slowly pushes him back, until Howard's pressed against the wall.

Howard jerks and lets out a startled sound.

"Do you want to model for me, Howard?" Steve asks, gently placing two fingers under Howard's chin, and meeting his gaze. "Do you want to strip to the waist and let me look at you? Do you want me to position you exactly how I want you?"

His face heats at Steve's words and his body, God, his body is practically vibrating with tension. "I…"

"Do you want me to touch you?" Steve pushes his body against Howard's, so they're chest to chest. "Do you want to crawl into my bed?"

Howard shudders and gasps. He works his mouth, trying to say something, anything, but all that emerges is a needy little whine.

"Do you want this?" Steve brushes their mouths together, slowly, flicking his tongue against Howard's bottom lip.

"I… I…" Howard tries, he really does, but he can't get the words out past his lips.

Steve lets out a slow, weary breath and gently slides his fingers across Howard's jaw, then cups the back of his neck. "Okay, Howard. Okay."

Howard frowns, puzzled. Okay, what's okay? Then he lets out a surprised gasp when Steve jerks his head forward and kisses him. This is no gentle kiss, it's hot and hungry and Steve's tongue forces its way into Howard's mouth. Taking, Steve is taking. And all he can do is give. Just give and give and give until his knees go weak and the only reason he's still standing is because Steve is pressing him against the wall.

Steve suddenly breaks the kiss and Howard whines. "I know. Shh, I know."

He swallows hard, feeling hot and unsettled. He wants to push Steve away and he wants Steve to kiss him again. He closes his eyes against the contradictions warring within him.

And then Steve slides a knee between Howard's thighs and begins to rock his hips.

Howard gives a sharp cry and fights his body's response, but Steve is relentless. He kisses Howard again, nipping at his bottom lip, his hands roaming over Howard's body, coaxing, urging.

Howard's resolve crumbles and he moves, clumsily, to meet the movement of Steve's hips, riding Steve's thigh as his hands scrape and scramble against the wall behind him. He doesn't want this, but he can't stop, doesn't want to stop.

He moans and pants against Steve's mouth, his pulse racing, his head reeling. But Steve doesn’t stop.

And it's so good. It's better than anything he ever had, better than anything he's imagined. He arches against Steve, his whole body throbbing with pleasure, and all he can think is this is where he's supposed to be, right here, being used by Steve.

Then, Steve moans into his mouth and grinds against him, hard and insistent. And Howard can't, he can't, can't, can't, can't— He lets out a choked cry, his body arching as he comes. Just as the pleasure begins to fade, Steve quickly steps back.

Howard's knees fold under him and he falls to his hands and knees. Shame follows hard behind the satisfaction thrumming through his body. He blinks back the tears in his eyes and stares resolutely at the ground.

"Look at me, Howard," Steve says and he doesn't want to.

"Please, Steve. Please." He shakes his head, his body shaking.

"Look. At. Me."

And it's not Steve's voice, it's Captain America's. He can't disobey that voice, no matter how hard he tries. He sits back on his heels and looks up.

Cap doesn't smile at him, doesn't do anything but stare down at him until Howard wants to look away. "Good boy."

It's almost too much, those words; they run across his skin like wildfire, leaving him hot and gasping for breath.

"I expect you to be ready for me tomorrow, Howard. Ready and willing. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, s-sir," he says, his tongue thick and clumsy

Then Steve smiles, grabs him by the forearms, and hauls him to his feet. "Are you all right?"

No.

He licks his lips and nods. "Yes."


End file.
